


Mal de débarquement

by GeneralWayne



Category: Aquaman (2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2019-12-26 02:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18274184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralWayne/pseuds/GeneralWayne
Summary: Orm had tried to stop the storm at the surface from reaching his people. Now, he felt himself being swept away. This story begins shortly after the events of the movie.





	1. Under water

He would have a cell at the end of the hall, down a long corridor that ensured all the other inmates had a chance to address the Oceanmaster as he was led to his new cage. Orm had managed to escape from his last cell, so more secure accommodations had been arranged.

In his brief tenure as ruler of Atlantis Orm had not been kind. Many of his current companions, their lives far removed from his royal supporters, had been recipients of the harsh brand of justice that Orm felt necessary. He did not regret his decisions, nor the martial law that he imposed. He had been preparing his kingdom for war with the surface.

Guard and inmate alike demonstrated their particular form of gratitude, and it was reflected in the bruises that stained his skin and the taunts that rained down from the cells above.

The jeers had little effect on him. Orm knew he was surrounded by commoners and criminals, lesser beings that couldn’t comprehend that everything he had done had been _necessary_ , that his only goal was the preservation of Atlantis. Now with his half-brother in charge, they were sure to lose their way of life forever.

Maybe it didn’t matter anymore, Orm thought to himself. He felt around within the recesses of his mind but could grasp none of the heat, none of the righteous rage that had so sustained him mere months before. The guards, mindful of his training and strength, had taken to sedating him whenever it was necessary, whether for medical checks, or to move him between locations. Orm had fought the injections at first, relishing the fight itself as a way to wrest control in a situation where he was utterly powerless. But soon enough, the superior technology had bested his spirit and broken his body, and he welcomed the drugs as a way to escape, if only in his mind.

Strapped to a gurney by six guards, Orm felt as if he had been floating forever. The hallway seemed endless, and Orm absentmindedly wondered whether this was the new prison that he had commissioned to hold all of the Atlanteans unwilling to take part in his war. It didn’t matter now, he thought to himself, losing the thread of the thought in the endless row of bright lights that passed above his head.

Time had ceased to have any meaning inside the prison, and even more so when under the weight of the sedative. Eventually, the guards flipped the gurney that held him down upright, and dumped him into the waiting cell.

The water held him, allowing him to drift to the floor of the cell gently. He heard the slam of the heavy metal door and the grinding of the lock as if from a great distance. Blinking slowly, he took in his new surroundings. This cell was much better than the other. It was smaller, and there were no windows. He wouldn’t have to think about anything here, he thought to himself, as long as he kept fighting and the guards kept sedating him.

More time passed, and he took a deep breath, wincing as the first searing lick of pain in his rib cage served to give him notice that the drugs were wearing off. His body had begun to remember the clubs used to coerce him into compliance. He sat up from the floor and floated to the small bed.

Sinking onto the bed, he put his head in his hands. In his old room, he had been able to keep track of the days on the wall, and here he would begin the count again. It had been four months since his defeat. Four months that he had been trapped alone with his thoughts, four months unable to escape out from under the shame that had been his failure. In his dreams he felt his father’s trident shatter. Unbidden, memories of his brother’s ascendancy to the throne flashed in front of his mind.

Orm felt his mind slipping into despair, unable to stop the flashes of memory, reminding him that everything he had worked now belonged to his half-brother. He had no throne, nor a bride. Orm felt the bile rise in his throat, and the overwhelming weight of shame pressed on his chest, making it hard to breathe. Lashing out, he smashed his fist against the wall. The flat metal surface held fast, and it seemed as if even the walls around him were mocking him. 

Orm punched the wall again, and then again. His mind was only quiet when the guards came and he had another chance to fight, another chance to be sedated.

Decades of training had served to make him a warrior, but they hadn’t prepared him to be a prisoner.


	2. The Offer

Another two months passed, and still there had been no word from his brother.

Orm couldn’t gauge the passage of the days in his windowless cell. Instead, his nights and days were marked by the change of the guard he heard shuffling, scraping outside his cell door.

Orm laid prone on his bed, falling in and out of a restless sleep. After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, he sunk fully into a fever dream. Deep into the dream, struggling and sweating, he was shaken awake by a far-away sound. It was only after regaining consciousness that he realized it was the scraping door that had pulled him from his slumber.

“We can sedate him,” a deep voice said, filtering into Orm's disorganized mind. He blinked. It wasn’t one of the usual guards.

“That won’t be necessary,” responded another man. “Just let me in.”

Frowning, Orm realized he didn’t recognize the second voice either.

The heavy metal door swung open to reveal the guard and another man, as slight as the guard was stout, dressed in the robes of the high court of Atlantis.

“You don’t know who I am,” the man said, drifting inside and motioning for the door to be shut behind him. He floated over to where a small table and chair sat against the wall. “But I’m here to help you,” he said.

“You’re from the high court,” Orm said, his voice rough from disuse.

“Yes,” the man said. “I’m your appointed representative. You’ve been charged with high treason, among other things.” 

Orm smiled without joy, relishing in the white-hot comfort of betrayal sliding through his veins, pulling strength from reserves that had begun to rust. He had been betrayed by the half-breed that now held the throne. It was a brilliant move, Orm thought to himself. While his brief rule was far from universally loved, especially among the lower classes, there were many that despised the surface and would defect back to his side given the chance. A public trial would give the people a chance to dispose of the former king once and for all, and to permanently prevent a path back to power.

“My name is Darius,” the thin man said, breaking Orm out of his rumination. “I apologize for the informality, but we’ll get to know each other very well by the time we are ready for trial. Today we’re just talking. We’ll discuss your case strategy next time.”

Orm shook his head. “I’m well aware of the pageantry that my brother intends with this adjudication,” he said, drawing out the syllables on the last word. “And I’ve no interest in participating. The punishment for treason is death.”

“I think it’s important that we go through the allegations,” Darius said, continuing as if Orm had said nothing. He pulled a screen from a bag that he held in his hand. “There’s time to go through it all, your next hearing isn’t for a few months yet--”

Orm jumped from the bed, looming over the man who sat nonchalantly at the table next to his bed. “Tell me the punishment that they have in store for me. I know that it’s death. It’s what I would have done, hell, I’m sure that it’s written in the code--”

“--If you work with me,” Darius said, interrupting, “there doesn’t have to be any punishment--”

“I’m not interested in playing along with the court,” Orm snarled. “I’m not interested in making these traitors feel justified in their decision to lock me away forever.”

Orm looked down at Darius, who gazed back without any fear. “I’m the best chance you’ve got,” Darius said. “Thousands of Atlanteans died in the war you waged with King Arthur. The people want retribution. But we can show them--”

“Tell me what Arthur is asking,” Orm said. “Tell me,” he said, his voice breaking. “They wouldn’t have sent you unless--”

“Permanent exile to the surface world,” Darius said finally, his voice even and his gaze steady. “Permanent exile or a public execution.”

Orm took a step back unconsciously, feeling as if all the breath had left his body. He had faced death before, in the heat of battle and with a trident in his hand. But here, he was powerless, unable to stop the humiliating control of his body and mind, unable to stop the eventual dispostion at the hands of the state. In the next instant, he felt his heart harden and his resolve return.

“Death,” he said. “I choose death”

Darius stood up. “I don’t think you mean that, your highness,” he said, referring to the former king by his lost title. “I think in time you’ll see that we could convince the court to let you stay here in Atlantis, or perhaps in another kingdom within the seven seas.”

“I’m not interested,” Orm said flatly. “Tell them I choose death. Tell them I’m not interested in a trial, and that I accept my fate.”

Darius stood up, rising to his full height. He didn’t even reach the former King’s shoulders, but in his eyes Orm saw a resolve that brokered no fear.

“I’ll return another time,” Darus said. “Once you’ve had some time to process. And if that’s what you really want,” he said. “We’ll discuss it then.”

Darius knocked on the back of the door, and a guard swept him away. 

Orm stared at the closed door. He felt the rage rise up in the back of his mind, and with both fists he slammed the closed door as hard as he could. He did it again, and again, and with each blow the hinges gave just a bit more. He continued to slam the door again and again, until his hands were bloody and he heard the footsteps of the guard, ready to sedate him once again. Orm smiled as the guards shouted, and he laughed at his ridiculous fate. 

Orm sighed in relief as the drugs took effect and the darkness overtook him. He wouldn't have to think about things, not at least for a little while. 


	3. Justification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur tries to find out more about his brother's case. An old friend lends an ear to the new king's troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry for the delay. Thank you so much for your kind comments. Keep leaving 'em. I'm gonna try to write more often.

Arthur peeled the label from the beer in front of him, adding it to the small stack he’d collected throughout the last few hours.

“You know I hate people that do that,” the bartender said, smiling to show her admonition held no malice.

“I know,” Arthur said, flashing a grin. “But Demi, I’m your favorite customer.”

The bartender smiled, sharing in the easy banter with Arthur. It was always easy with him, she thought. They had shared smiles before, shared a bed more than once, never quite able to catch the other at the right time in a way that could make it last.

Arthur had been away from Amnesty Bay for several months. Now that he was back, Arthur was aglow with a new love, and Demi was happy to feel in her heart no pangs of jealousy. A sense of understanding had replaced desire. She cherished that feeling.

“What are you doing here anyway?” she asked, pulling a rack of glasses from the dishwasher behind the bar. “I thought you were in your tuna kingdom.”

Arthur glared at the bartender. “You know I’m kind of a big deal, right?”

“Maybe underwater,” Demi replied, polishing one of the freshly-washed glasses. “Maybe on the news. But in here,” she said, gesturing around to the dingy bar, filled with fishermen, “This is my kingdom.”

Arthur laughed. With all the trouble plaguing Atlantis, and with the realities of navigating his new relationship with Meera, it was good to be with an old friend.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m waiting for someone,” He drained the last of his beer. A fresh one appeared before him. Arthur shot the bartender an appreciative look.

“Do I finally get to meet the princess?” Demi asked. “I can get out the fine china, if that’s what you think she’d like.”

“There aren’t any nice things in here,” Arthur said, laughing. “I’ve seen the storage closet.”

Demi smiled and fished the last glass from the rack. The door opened and a slight man entered, dressed far better than any of the other patrons. She gestured with her eyes. “That your man?”

Arthur looked over his shoulder. The lightness that he felt with Demi evaporated as the reality of his responsibilities fell upon him again.

“That’s him,” Arthur said. He pulled out his wallet but Demi raised a hand. “Consider it a welcome home present," she said. 

Arthur smiled. “Thanks,” he said. He pushed himself up from the bar with the intent to grab the small man’s attention.

“There’s a place out back,” Arthur said, once the man was in earshot. “Where the cooks go to smoke. We won’t be bothered there.”

The man nodded. “It’s strange,” he said. “I’ve read of wondrous structures on the surface, but you’ve chosen this one.”

“Good memories,” Arthur replied, looking back at Demi, at the other end of the bar. “We’ve got someone watching our back.”

A set of keys slid across the bar to Arthur, who picked them up. He looked down the bar to Demi, who was deep in conversation with a customer.

Arthur led the visitor left through the back door which opened into a patio and an empty pool. The bar was attached to a now shuttered motel, the empty concrete space now filled with leaves and ringed with rotting patio chairs.

Arthur pulled up a relatively safe-looking seat for himself and the man next to him.

“Alright, Darius,” he said, his voice rough. “We’re alone now.”

Darius looked impassive, his face calm. “Your highness, I know why you’ve asked me here.”

Arthur nodded. “Well, if you know, then spill it! Tell me how the case prep is going. How is he,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “How’s Orm.”

“I can’t divulge the communications between my client and myself,” Darius said.

“Yes you can,” Arthur said testily, waving his hand. “I’m your King, and I order you to do so.”

“Not even the King himself,” Darius said, “can make me void my oath.” He looked at Arthur, who seemed to loom over him. “I’m prepared to face the consequences.”

“I’m not trying to throw the case, I just don’t want him to get hurt!” Arthur exclaimed.

“I understand,” Darius said calmly. “But it’s my duty to carry out his wishes, and to keep them in confidence until he wishes me to share them.”

“Well, doesn’t family count?” Arthur said. “Doesn’t family count for anything?”

“In many ways,” Darius said. “But not in this one.” His voice was sympathetic. “I cannot share my client’s confidence, but if I may provide some advice, your Highness,” Darius said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “You may wish to visit your brother soon, while you still can.”

Darius stood up and brushed an imaginary speck of dirt from his coat.

“I’m due in court this afternoon,” he said. “I’m sorry, your highness. I’m truly sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

Darius left back through the door to the bar, leaving Arthur with his thoughts.

—-

Demi found Arthur still back by the empty pool at the end of the shift. He was prone in a sagging patio chair, his backseat nearly on the ground, arms hanging off the sides.

“Hey, you,” she said. “I didn’t see you leave, but didn’t figure you were still back here.”

“Yeah,” Arthur said, still immobile in the chair.

“Who was that?” she asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“My brother’s lawyer,” Arthur said.

Demi raised an eyebrow. “Your brother,” she said. “The one that tried to kill everybody?”

“That’s the one,” Arthur said, defeated.

“And what exactly were you thinking,” Demi said, “meeting him here?”

“I just wanted to make sure that Orm was okay,” Arthur said.

“And why exactly does your brother need a lawyer?” Demi asked. “I guess I didn’t even think they’d have those kind of people down there, I mean--in the ocean.”

The thought of an underwater realm was still new to Demi, as it was to nearly all of the human race. It seemed fantastical, like something out of one of her brother’s comic books.

“He’s--it’s hard to explain,” Arthur said. “Right after the battle, everything seemed like it was going to be okay. We found our mother, Orm agreed to defeat. But after that, things got more complicated. When we got back, people were calling for his head.”

Demi nodded silently. She sat down on the ground, leaning her back against the Arthur's chair. She reached into a nearby empty flower pot and pulled out a bottle of whisky. After a swig for herself, she handed it to a grateful Arthur.

Arthur took a long pull off the bottle and continued. “I don’t know shit about how to run a kingdom. It’s so big and complicated, and even with Meera and Vulko--everybody’s got an agenda.”

He handed the bottle to Demi, who took a drink herself. “Sounds like some bullshit," she said. 

“Yeah!” Arthur exclaimed. “That’s what I said. Then they said I couldn’t say that. They said I need a ‘regal bearing.’ They told me I had a responsibility to act differently, so that the kingdom can heal.” He frowned and looked at the bottom of the empty pool. The pale, grey walls reminded him of the prison cell in which Orm still remained.

“One of the heads of the royal households, Romulus is his name--he pulled some parliamentary procedure to force the court to decide Orm’s fate. There’s going to be a trial, in Atlantis, by our laws, to determine his punishment.”

“People are probably pretty mad at your brother,” Demi said gently. “Maybe this way they can get that anger out without taking down the whole kingdom.”

Arthur took back the bottle and took another long pull. “That’s what they tell me. That’s what I’m supposed to say. But I don’t care, he’s my brother and I think there’s still some good in him.”

Demi nodded. She looked at her friend, who seemed taken asunder by the weight of his emotion. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been exactly where you are--with Sam, when he got locked up--and it’s just terrible. You feel helpless, like there’s nothing you can do.”

“It gets worse,” Arthur said, his voice breaking again. “I found out that the Crown’s prosecutors have offered him the choice of exile or death.” He shook his head. “I’m the fucking Crown. That’s not what I want! That’s not what I want at all!”

Demi took the bottle from Arthur’s wildly gesturing hands. “Hey now,” she said, her voice gentle. “So you came here and tried to see how things were going with Orm’s lawyer. Maybe he’ll choose exile. It's awful, but he'd at least be alive, right?”

Arthur sighed. “He’d be killed if he ever returned. And knowing my brother,” he said. “I’m doubting he’d want anything to do with the surface world." He frowned. "So I tried to get it out of his lawyer, but all he said was that I should go visit Orm 'while I still can.'" He looked at Demi. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Everybody in Atlantis would know if I visited him, and that would start even more trouble." 

Demi nodded, now feeling the weight of memories of her own brother’s battle flooding back. “They tell you that he has a choice,” she said, “but it doesn’t seem like any choice at all.”

Arthur nodded. He had been friends with Demi’s brother, back before the incident that took him to prison and ultimately, to his death in a fight in the yard.

“Demi,” Arthur said, suddenly mindful of the pain that he might have caused his friend. “Shit, I’m sorry--Sam--I didn’t mean to bring it all up again.”

Demi shook her head. “No, it’s okay,” she said. “I think about him every day. And I get it, Arthur. I really do.”

She took another pull from the bottle, long enough to feel the harsh burn from the whisky dull some of the pain she felt in her heart.

“If I could have done anything, I would have,” she said, shaking her head. “I trusted the system. I thought that if he could just explain, they’d understand why he did it.”

Demi folded over on herself. She felt small under the dull glow from the streetlamps washing over the rotten fence. “Now, I’d have done anything to get him out of there.”

Arthur nodded.

“Fuck the law,” Demi said, throwing the empty bottle into the bottom of the pool. It clattered but didn’t break.

Arthur didn’t say anything for a moment. “Yeah,” he said. “Fuck it.” He rolled off the lounge chair and helped Demi to her feet.

In standing so quickly, Demi felt unsteady. “Woah,” she said. She pulled her phone from her pocket. “It’s late,” she said.

Demi looked up at Arthur, who seemed to be a million miles away. “You alright?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Arthur said. “Better than I’ve been in a while.” He pulled Demi into a hug. “Thank you,” he said, his voice muffled.

Demi nodded, allowing herself to be comforted by her old friend. Breaking the embrace, they walked back inside.

“I hope things go alright with your brother,” Demi said.

Arthur nodded. “They will,” he said. “It’ll be alright.”

Demi could see that a plan had knit itself together in the back of Arthur’s mind. She thought about asking, about warning Arthur not to do anything stupid, but then she saw Sam’s picture over the bar.

“Whatever you do,” Demi said gently, “just be careful, alright?”

Arthur nodded.

“And bring your girl in sometime,” she said, smiling. “I wanna meet her, after all the good things you’ve said about her.”

Arthur smiled. “I will.”

And with that, he disappeared into the foggy night. Demi closed the door to the bar, and retreated through the back patio to one of the empty motel rooms that she'd claimed as her own. 

She’d picked one of the rooms on the top floor, one that was high enough to have a good view of the bay. She looked out at the water, quiet in the pre-dawn hours.

“Watch yourself Arthur,” she said, looking out over the ocean. 

It was quiet after that. 

 


	4. What the law demands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orm meets with his lawyer and makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. It occurred to me, when writing this chapter, that there's the need in this chapter for trigger warning for self-harm. Having suffered depression myself, I don't want anybody to walk into this without a warning. I'm so grateful that you're here and you're reading.

Prone on his bed, Orm barely looked up when he heard the heavy lock turn on the door. His advocate entered the cell, alone. Darius held a slim tablet in his hands. He floated gracefully over to the table that sat at the end of Orm’s bed. “Your Highness,” he said. “Are you ready to discuss your case?” 

Orm swung his legs off the bed and pulled himself up to standing. “I told you that I prefer execution to exile,” he said. “I haven’t changed my mind.” 

Darius nodded, his face impassive. “I see,” he said. 

“I don’t want to fight,” Orm said. 

The advocate nodded again. “I’ve spoken to your brother,” he said. “He is worried about you.” 

Orm felt betrayal slice hot through his chest. “So you told him of my desire, and he’s sent you here to convince me otherwise,” he said bitterly. 

Darius shook his head, his expression still inscrutable. “Your brother wanted to know the content of our conversations. But my duty is sacred, and to you alone.” 

Orm stared at the wall, still untrusting. 

“If this is still your decision,” Darius said. “I can file the appropriate motions today. You might be executed as soon as tomorrow.” The advocate paused. “There are forces that are motivated to see this matter resolved,” he said. “Despite that pressure, I must ensure that this is what you truly want.” 

“I don’t see how I could be any more clear,” Orm said. 

“You’ve been incarcerated here, alone, for nearly six months,” Darius said. “That’s a long time for anyone to be trapped with their thoughts.” 

Orm shook head. “It has been a welcome respite from the outside world.” He sighed and looked over at Darius. Orm couldn’t read the advocate’s intentions, and it unsettled him. 

Darius gestured to the open seat at the table. “Please, your highness.” 

Reluctantly, Orm took the seat. “Fine,” he said. “If this means it will be over soon.” 

Without responding, Darius pressed a button on his tablet and pulled a stylus from his pocket. “We must discuss the case against you, even if you’re going to plead guilty and accept your punishment. Now, treason is the official charge against you, but there’s more--” 

“--I was the legitimate ruler of Atlantis,” Orm interrupted angrily. “Arthur was the usurper.” 

“After he retrieved the trident of Atlan, he was the true king,” Dairus said. “That is the position of the Crown’s prosecutors--” 

Orm laughed bitterly. “A scavenger hunt for an old relic was enough to establish his claim to the crown?” he asked. “I’ve trained my entire life to rule. What was I to do? I had to think of the people--” 

“--and the assassination of the Ricou, King of the Fishermen” Darius said. “The Crown alleges you did that in cold blood.” 

“Our lives were at stake,” Orm said forcefully, standing up from his chair. “You’ve seen how the surface world has treated our home. It’s only a matter of time before they destroy our whole way of life.” 

“Your highness,” Darius said gently, “I thought you weren’t interested in preparing a defense.” 

Orm took a step back as if struck by an invisible force. All his anger left instantly. He felt empty and unsteady on his feet.  “That’s right,” he said, falling into the chair. “I want to accept my fate.” 

A long silence passed between the two men. 

Orm took his head in his hands. He pressed his fingers against his temples in a futile effort to quiet his mind. Unbidden, images of his last encounter with Ricou flashed before his eyes. He saw the face of the princess as he struck down her father. 

“I did what I thought was necessary,” Orm said slowly, helpless as his mind’s eye then turned to the memory of losing his mother to the Trench. Shame slipped in between the cracks of mind, making his chest feel impossibly tight. “Perhaps I was wrong,” he said. 

For a long moment, Darius was silent. Orm waited for the advocate’s condemnation.

“I’m not here to judge you,” Darius said, as if sensing Orm’s thoughts. “I have been with the court for many years,” he said, “and I have realized that we don’t know what we’re capable of until we’re in the moment.” 

For a moment, Orm felt the pain in his chest ease. “Yes,” he said. “It just all seemed so certain at the time.” He trailed off, not knowing what else to say. 

“The Crown will also ask you about the tsunamis you sent to the surface,” Darius said. 

Orm looked at his advocate with a blank look on his face, still consumed in memories of the past. “Oh,” he said. “What about it?””  

“It caused a great deal of destruction,” Darius said. “Many humans lost their lives.” 

Orm leaned back in his chair. Anger soothed the shame that had begun to build in his heart. “The surface world launched their attack first,” he said, “with every piece of garbage they put in the ocean. I merely returned the missives they sent to our world.” 

Darius remained silent. 

“The Atlanteans who died because of the oil spill,” Orm continued. “Who was there to speak for them? Where is accounting for their lives?” He shook his head. “Arthur will see. He will see that you can’t trust the surface dwellers.” 

“If you were here,” Darius said. “That is--if you chose exile--you could warn your brother.” 

Orm laughed without joy. “No,” he said. “I couldn’t bear it. And besides,” he said. “Everything I’ve tried to do so far has turned out terribly.” 

Darius nodded. “That much is true,” he said. 

Orm shot an offended look at his advocate, who returned a small smile. “I’m on your side,” Darius said. “But I’m not going to lie to you.” 

Orm laughed quietly. So few people had ever been truthful with him. “Perhaps if you had been my advisor instead of Vulko,” he said, “things would have turned out differently.” 

“I’m not much use outside a courtroom,” Darius replied lightly. In the next moment, his expression turned serious once more. 

“Your highness,” he said, “is there no possibility that you would consider exile? If I could find a kingdom in the Ocean willing to harbor you--” 

“--you know they won’t,” Orm said. 

“--But I could try,” Darius pressed. “If you would give me permission, perhaps I could negotiate with the Crown’s prosecutors--” 

“--I have made my choice,” Orm said, his voice harsh. “I can’t--I won’t--go on in this world. I don’t want to watch the poison from the surface world kill my kingdom. Arthur’s unwilling to stop it, and I don’t want to be here when it happens.” 

Darius was silent. He turned his tablet off. “I understand,” he said. Orm sensed a quiet anger in his voice. “I don’t agree, but I understand.” Darius stood up from the table. “I’ll file the motions with the court,” he said. “This may be your last night,” he said.

“Thank you,” Orm said. 

Orm saw that Darius’s facade had begun to crack. “It is my duty,” Darius said, his eyes dark. “Please, do not thank me.” After a sharp knock at the door to call the guards, he was gone. 

Orm was left alone once again. So much of his time in solitude had been wrapped in pain and anger, dulled only by fights with the guards and drugs that kept him sedated. He hadn’t really considered what had happened--what led to his confinement--until his meeting with Darius. A dam had been breached in his brain, and he felt himself collapsing. 

Orm felt around in his heart for the anger against his brother, the strong and clear feeling that had sustained him in the build up to the great battle. But where once was certainty, now stood doubt. Hopelessness rose up like bile in his throat. 

Orm leaned over, unable to breathe. He wanted to fight, he wanted to scream--anything to escape his thoughts. Just then, the slot in the door opened, sliding in a tray with his evening meal. 

In a flash, Orm shot over to the still-open slot. He grabbed at the guard's hand, whose reflexes were infinitely slower. The guard screamed and a siren blared. The door slammed open and guards rushed in to subdue the fallen king. 

Orm didn’t remember much after that. 


	5. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Mera disagree.

Arthur stood alone in his chambers behind the throne room of Atlantis. It was late afternoon, and the new king stood at the window, watching the traffic snake through the capital in glowing ribbons. 

He was lost in thought, having returned from his visit with Darius only a few nights ago. Behind him, he heard the door room open. He turned and saw it was Mera. 

“Arthur,” she said. “Do you feel prepared for the meeting with the Treasury Council?” 

Arthur glanced at the tablet on the desk behind him. He’d meant to double down and learn more about the kindgom’s financial situation, but he found himself distracted by his brother's plight. 

“It’s--well, I haven’t exactly started yet,” he said sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the princess. 

Mera sighed. “You know you’ve got to get a handle on the books,” she said. “It’s one of the most important parts of ruling. We have to ensure that Atlantis can take care of its people. That requires expenditures.” 

Arthur groaned audibly. “I know,” he said. Mera had been lecturing more as of late. “I promise I’m going to work on it.”

“You’ve said that before,” Mera said, crossing her arms. 

Arthur took a deep breath and reached for the princess, pulling her into an embrace. “I’m sorry. I really am. It’s been a long week.” 

Mera leaned into Arthur. “I know,” she said. “The execution is tomorrow morning.” 

For a moment, the enormity of Mera’s observation hung in the space between them. 

Mera pulled back and looked into Arthur’s eyes. “Are you alright?” she said. “I know you care for your brother,” she said. “I know you wanted to make things right, but he’s made his choice.” 

Arthur broke their embrace. “I wouldn’t have really called it a choice,” he said, suddenly needed space from his beloved. “I wanted a chance to talk to him. I told him that I would, right after the battle. I promised him--” 

“--I know,” Mera said, “and I know you meant it. But as ruler of Atlantis, you’re bound by Atlantean law. Orm nearly destroyed the kingdom. His battle took the lives of Atlanteans and countless more surface dwellers." 

Arthur shook his head. “I’m not saying he made mistakes--” 

“Mistakes?” Mera said, her voice laced with anger. “He committed treason! He’s a murderer! And you weren’t there, Arthur,” she said, tears in the corner of her eyes. “You didn’t see it, the months and years before, but they were terrible.” 

The princess took a shaky breath, as if to steady herself. “You’re not just Arthur anymore,” she said. “You represent the people of Atlantis. You’re destiny is to unite our kingdom and the surface world. And the people--the people of both worlds--they demand justice,” she said. 

Arthur felt his heart drop in his chest. “I never asked for this,” he said. He felt helpless and unmoored. 

“Arthur,” Mera said, “Orm can’t be saved. I grew up with him. I knew him--and when I wouldn’t agree to marry him, he went to my father to ensure that I wouldn’t be able to refuse.” She looked down at the ground, as if embarrassed by the revelation. "I felt trapped," she said quietly. "He knew--he knew I didn't want to marry him. And yet--what I wanted didn't matter. Not to him, or my father."

For a moment, the fierce Xebel princess seemed lost in a terrible memory. Arthur wanted to reach out for her, he wanted to hold her. And yet he was rooted to the ground, as if by an invisible force. 

“As royals we have a responsibility,” Mera said slowly, the confidence in her voice returning. “We have to abide by different rules, to ensure the good for everyone.” 

Arthur felt his heart drop further in his chest. “That’s what you keep telling me,” he said. Breaking free of his hesitation, he reached for Mera and held her face in his hands. 

“What they did--Orm and your father--that was wrong." he said. "You’ve spent too much of your life living by someone else’s rules.” 

Mera looked up at Arthur, her eyes full of emotion. “It was my duty,” she said. “I was--I am--happy to do it.” 

Arthur nodded. He kissed her forehead. “You make me a better person,” Arthur said. “I couldn’t do this without you. I don’t want to fight about Orm. He hurt you. He hurt a lot of people. You’re right about that.” 

Mera looked up at him. 

“And still--he’s my brother,” Arthur said. “He’s my mother’s son. And all this justice being done in my name--it doesn’t feel it's making things right.” 

An inscrutable emotion passed over the face of the princess. “I understand,” she said. “I don’t agree, but I understand.” 

Arthur pulled her tight again. At that moment, she seemed the only thing Arthur could be sure was real. 

“You’re saying I have to look at some spreadsheets,” Arthur said lightly, trying to break the tension that had built in the room. “You wanna walk me through those so I don’t look like a complete idiot this afternoon?” 

Mera smiled. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll help you study.” 

Arthur grinned. “Great,” he said. He went over to the tablet and pressed a button to turn it on. He beckoned her over. Together, they delved into the complex finances of the Atlantean kingdom. 

 

\---

 

Thanks to Mera, Arthur managed to preside over a productive meeting of the Crown’s treasury. For at least a few moments after the meeting, Arthur felt like he might be able to rule after all. 

As Treasury Council members filed out of the room Mera kissed Arthur on the cheek. “I’m impressed,” she said. “Who knew you’d have a head for numbers?” 

Arthur shrugged his shoulders, grinning. “I had a good teacher,” he said. "I always paid better attention when the teachers were pretty." 

Mera laughed. “Would you like to get something to eat?” she said. “I’d like to try those ‘french fries’ you showed me a few weeks ago.’” 

“Anything fried sounds good to me,” he said, his stomach rumbling as if on cue. “We’ll have to go surface-side.” 

Mera nodded. “Of course,” she said. 

“I’ve got to take care of one thing really quick,” Arthur said. 

“Can I go with you?” Mera said. 

Arthur shook his head. “It’ll be quick,” he said. “Just go get ready and I’ll swing by and get you in an hour.” 

A small frown creased Mera’s face. “I really don’t mind,” she said. “I’ll go with you--” 

“--it’s nothing,” Arthur said. “I promise. But it’s better if I do it alone.” 

Mera’s frown deepened, but she nodded. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll see you in an hour.” 

Arthur kissed her forehead and left her still standing in the council room. Looking back, he saw her turn to converse with one of the council members who had lingered in the room. 

It would be better if she didn’t know, Arthur thought to himself. She wouldn’t understand. 

Once he was outside the Council hall, he shot down to the surface floor. A slim figure stood among the shadows.

“Alright,” Arthur said. “Let’s do this.” 

 


	6. Execution Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orm faces his fate.

It was the day of his execution. After an early morning fight with the guards, Orm regained consciousness in the bowels of the Coliseum where he and Arthur had their battle.

Orm could feel the vibrations from the crowd. The excitement from the assembly was palpable. 

Today was not meant to be a celebration, but it was a performance nonetheless. Orm felt the rough chains around his wrists and arms and wondered if they were the ones used to imprison his brother before the duel. 

He felt heavy and weak. He had been sedated, as usual. Orm put up a fight on principle, but in reality he was looking forward to this day. In short order, his torment would end. The sedative calmed his mind and quieted the small voice that protested that he should live. 

A light appeared in the darkness, and Darius appeared carrying a torch. “Your Highness,” he said. 

“Darius,” Orm said slowly. His head was heavy, his tongue felt like lead. “Your work is over.” 

“Not yet,” Darius said. “I am your advocate until the end. I am here to ensure that you aren’t mistreated.” He frowned. “As far as that can go for an execution.”  

A guard appeared and brusquely shoved Darius and rattled the keys to the cage. “Time to go,” he said. “We’re headed to the arena.” 

“He’s done nothing wrong,” Orm said, gesturing at Darius with his chains. “There’s no reason for you to mistreat him.” 

“You’re not the King anymore,” drawled the guard. “I don’t have to take orders from you.” 

Darius brushed his suit with a nonchalant look. “I'm fine,” he said. 

The guard shoved Orm in front of him and marched him forward through the darkness. Orm felt that the hallway seemed to go on forever, just as it had when he'd first entered the prison where he'd spent the last few months. As they marched along, the light grew brighte and the sound increased, until they were nearly to the arena. They stood in a darkened tunnel, and Orm could see Arthur sitting on a dais. In front of him was the executioner, wielding a heavy sword.

Orm felt his heart go cold. That small voice in his mind told him it was fear. How many executions did he order during his reign? Those he sent to their deaths would have been in this very spot, he thought to himself. 

He tried to steel himself, but the terror in his mind grew louder. He felt Darius put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Does it get any easier?” Orm asked. “Watching this.”

“No,” Darius said. “Never.” 

Orm watched his brother raise a hand, and the arena fell silent. He gestured at a man on the dais who stood up and addressed the crowd. 

“Romulus,” Orm growled. The nobleman had been one of his most loyal advisors. His face twisted into a cynical smile as he watched Romulus supplicate to the half-breed King. 

Romulus hailed from one of the most ancient lines in Atlantis. Orm knew the noble hated the surface world as much as he did. And yet, Orm thought to himself, Romulus loved power more. 

“Get comfortable,” Darius said quietly. “He takes a while.” Orm laughed under his breath, and the guard elbowed him in the ribs, hard. 

“Pay attention,” the guard growled, “he’s reading off your crimes.” 

With a grand gesture Romulus pointed to the darkened tunnel, and Orm was roughly shoved into the bright lights of the arena. Darius followed, and Orm was led to the executioner’s block. 

He looked up to see his brother in regal attire. He watched as Mera laid a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. Arthur leaned away from her touch. 

Orm looked over at Darius, who was watching the King intently. It seemed as if he was waiting for something. 

A leg swept his feet out from under him, and Orm was roughly shoved to his knees. 

“Orm Marius,” said Romulus, towering over him. “You have been charged with the murder of Ricou, and treason to the one true King. You have betrayed the people of Atlantis and been called to answer for your crimes. What do you have to say?” 

Orm looked up at Romulus, defiant. He looked over at Scales, Ricou's daughter, sitting in the front row. 

Even now, when he was safely ensconced in chains and under guard, Orm watched the young princess recoil when their eyes met. She was afraid. 

That same small voice reminded Orm that he'd taken everything her. Orm averted his gaze. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Romulus asked again, looming even larger. He raised a foot to kick at Orm. Darius stepped forward to protest, but guards pushed him back. 

Orm looked up at Romulus, and back again to Scales. “I’m sorry for taking your father from you,” he said quietly. 

“Speak louder!” roared Romulus, who raised his arms to rouse the crowd. “The people demand justice!” 

Orm searched his heart, but found nothing else to say. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, the sounds of bloodlust washing over him. 

The executioner stepped forward, and Romulus returned to the front row of chairs. 

Orm opened his eyes one last time, to see Darius nod at someone. He closed his eyes again as the executioner raised his sword. 

Everything was quiet and dark. He felt the water move around them as the executioner swung downward. 

In the next moment, Orm felt the world drop out from under him. He was pulled downward by a massive force. Darius and the guards tumbled after him. He heard the executioner’s sword slam on the top of the trap door that shut over his head. 

Orm slammed onto the floor of the basement. Dumbfounded, he watched Darius quickly dispatch the guards that had been pulled down with them with a small weapon. 

Orm stood in a stupor as Darius removed the chains from his wrists and feet. 

“Go,” Darius said, his voice hurried. 

“I was supposed to die,” Orm said. His thoughts were slow and jumbled. Adrenaline was cutting through the sedative, but his faculties were returning slowly. “Why did you save me?" he asked. "You’re an officer of the court.” 

Darius stood up to his full height, and even though Orm was nearly a head taller, he suddenly felt infinitely smaller than the slight man in front of him. 

“Because I think you’re truly sorry,” Darius said, his voice serious. 

Orm heard voices echoing down the corridor. 

“And I think you’d take it all back, if you could,” Darius said, this time more urgently. “And damn the law that has no place for mercy. Now, go!" 

Darius turned and shouted towards the sound of the fast-approaching voices. “I’ve found him!” He looked at Orm one last time. 

“I think you’re worth saving,” he said. “Prove me right.” 

Orm felt his feet move before his mind caught up with him. He blindly turned corners, running as fast and as far as he could. After what seemed like the hundredth turn, he slammed into someone running in the opposite direction.  

Reeling, Orm saw that it was a man with a dark helmet, dressed in a black wetsuit. The man removed his helmet. Arthur’s eyes burned into his. “Come on,” he said. “I know the way.” 

Orm hesitated. He felt the enormity of resentment and anger that he’d built against his brother. For so long, that anger had sustained him. 

“Orm,” Arthur said. “We don’t have much time.” 

Orm felt everything crashing down upon him at once. The last look from Scales, the final words from Darius, all his hatred and anger and fear--it all seemed so heavy that it suddenly faded away. His head felt clear. 

"Show me the way," Orm said. 

Arthur’s eyes lit up. “Alright!” he said, laughing. “Let's have some fun!" 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Like many others, I found myself captivated by the character of Orm Marius and the potential for creative expression surrounding our beloved Oceanmaster. And what's even better, there are multiple Orm + Original Character stories that I've read on here that are just fantastic and provide different dimensions to not only his character but really the Aquaman movie as well. I want to give a special shoutout to sonnie's "Your Love is Going to Drown" (available here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194754) for being a fic I look forward to reading with each update. My work will take on a much different and more dark interpretation of the evolution of Orm Marius, but I hope you will enjoy. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading.


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